


Best Keep Up

by wildlives



Category: Perry Mason (TV 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlives/pseuds/wildlives
Summary: The thing about being a defense attorney was they’re not all winners.
Relationships: Hamilton Burger/Perry Mason
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Best Keep Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladygray99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygray99/gifts).



The thing about being a defense attorney was they’re not all winners. 

Oh, Perry was sure he would to get this client off. He had a packet of photographs from Paul and some incisive words for the jury about personal responsibility - that wasn’t the problem. Perry’s client was an asshole - also not really the problem, since he was also innocent and innocent people shouldn’t go to jail, even if they ate fried onions in the office and complained regularly about his pro bono representation.

No, the real problem was that Hamilton Burger had recommended this client to Perry in the first place, had helped advise behind the scenes, and had then decided that what his own career as future D.A. needed was for this client to go to jail. So now Perry had to lose the case after all to make Hamilton look good. Perry doesn’t take falls for anyone’s career, or at least that’s what he yelled at Hamilton the last time Hamilton visited his office. 

Della said they would win the case anyway so it didn’t matter; Perry knew her only problem with it was she thought she should be the only person to boss Perry around. 

“You know Hamilton isn’t always going to be on our side in court,” said Della. She was paperclipping stacks of transcripts to be submitted to the judge on Monday - her Hail Mary in case Paul’s photographs weren’t enough. “E.B. had lunch every Thursday with Lon Petrovich at his club, and they opposed each other in court more times than I can count. They even got in a fistfight once.”

Perry had wandered into her office, tired of looking at his own notes. “I know, I know,” said Perry, sprawled in her spare chair. “It’s the price of doing business. It’s not that. I just - don’t see why he’s always got to make things difficult.”

“As a lawyer you need to be able to get along with a lot more people than you did as a private detective,” Della continued. “You can’t just run away from your problems in a milk truck anymore.”

“Hey,” said Perry, pointing at her with his cold coffee mug. “I wasn’t running away from my problems. I was running away from angry naked guys, usually. They’re other people’s problems. Don’t change the subject.” He picked up one of Drake’s photographs from a file box at his elbow, but dropped it back in after a moment; staring at them more wasn’t going to solve anything at this point. 

“Perry,” said Della, in a pleasant tone that let Perry know he had used up the last of her patience, “every day of my life I have men making things more difficult. Hamilton usually isn’t one of them. I think you need to work out whatever this is with him directly. Take him to lunch, have a fistfight. Be ready to set it all aside until the next time he undermines your case. Okay?”

“And stop complaining to you about it?” said Perry.

“Absolutely,” said Della. “I hear enough about you from him. I don’t need the other side too.”

“Wait, what does he say about me?” said Perry.

Della put down the last stack of papers and folded her hands on top of it. “Perry. Go back to your own office. Or go out - it doesn’t matter. It’s the day after Christmas. You should relax.”

Perry stood up. “You’re right. As usual. But when will you relax? You know, you can take some ti-”

“Believe me,” said Della, “my day will be much more relaxing once you’re out of the office.”

Perry couldn’t talk to Paul Drake about it; he was extremely tired of hearing Perry complain about other lawyers. Perry wished E.B. was here to condescend to him about it in a paternal way, but that wasn’t happening.

He used to talk stuff like this out with Pete Strickland, usually three drinks deep at least. But lots of things were different these days. Perry was drinking less, for one, because cross-examining witnesses was much worse hungover than private detecting was. And he and Pete weren’t talking anymore. Perry had ended a lot of friendships in his life, but that one hurt.

So Perry complained about it to Lupe at the bar. 

“And it was his idea,” he repeated. “His idea!”

“Please, no more lawyer stuff,” said Lupe, waving away the bartender.

Perry had been planning on Lupe Gibbs being another of those ended friendships. He hadn’t been enough of a sucker to think she loved him, but he had at least thought she liked him. He spent a lot of time last year sulking about that, nursing his wounds. 

Then Lupe needed something cleared up with the dairy farm’s title. To prove to himself that he wasn’t still sore, he met in person to get the last documents signed, and that led to drinks, which led to not having sex but talking a lot, and he remembered why he actually enjoyed spending time with her. It was kind of nice, having a friend he didn’t work with. And he occasionally gave her free legal advice, like when a couple of her employees at the airstrip were arrested for smuggling. (His free legal advice for that one: invest in paid legal advice.) 

Perry had even gotten to meet Lupe’s new boyfriend. He was friendly, clean-shaven, and didn’t owe any property taxes - a real step up from the last guy. “You know, I’m glad you didn’t bring your new boy toy along this time,” said Perry. “He likes the lawyer stuff even less than you.”

Lupe raised an eyebrow and holds out her glass to be refilled. “I don’t see what the problem is with Burger. He can’t stop you from doing your job. You already said all he can do is ‘be a snob about it.’ Just tell him to go fuck himself.”

“I did that,” Perry sighs. “Della hung up my telephone.”

“So what is this really about?” said Lupe. 

“What do you mean?” said Perry.

“You’ve always had people telling you what to do. Your parents, your wife. Me. The Army. You always just do what you want anyway and then feel sorry for yourself. Why does this guy even matter?”

Perry shrugged. “He could end my career.”

“Would he?” said Lupe.

Perry thought about it. His whiskey glass was empty except for one last drop, which he tilted this way and that under the light. “No,” Perry said finally. “He likes the work I do, actually. And once Della passes the Bar and starts practicing with me, well, he’s crazy about her. He wouldn’t fuck me if it would fuck her too.”

“Interesting word choice,” said Lupe.

“What? Oh, no, they’re not fucking. I told you. They’re both gay as the day is long.”

Lupe rolled her eyes. “I know. That’s what I’m saying.” Perry stared at her. “And so are you, Perry,” she said, lowering her voice. “You told me about the guys in the Army. The blue ticket.”

“Yeah, but,” said Perry, looking away awkwardly. It was weird to be talking about this sober. And not in bed. “Only part-time, Lupe.”

“You just said he’s got a hardon for you.”

“That’s an expression!” said Perry. “It means he has a problem with me.”

“And you with him,” said Lupe. “He does things that everyone else does, but he drives you crazy like nobody else.”

“Exactly,” said Perry. 

“Maybe the solution to the ‘problem’ is to fuck him,” said Lupe. “What is it that you say? ‘I rest my case.’”

“Wow,” said Perry. “Wow.” She smirked and shrugged.

“Lupe, I can’t just-”

“Nope, that’s it,” she said. “That’s my only advice. Now, I’m serious, no more work talk. Just drinking. Or leave.”

“Fine. I’ll have a water. And I won’t fuck Hamilton. And that’s that,” said Perry.

“Mm-hmm,” said Lupe. 

He really did stick to water after that. He meant to go home at a reasonable hour too - but somewhere on the walk back to his apartment Perry started to think about Lupe’s advice.

Perry would certainly have noticed if he wanted to fuck Hamilton. No, if Hamilton wanted to fuck him. Or both, or either. Wouldn’t he?

It was easy to fall into old habits. 

Hamilton must have a favorite queer bar, somewhere he felt comfortable going. He might not go every night but he would certainly go today, the day after a holiday. There were three such bars that Perry knew of within walking distance of Hamilton’s office - two that Perry had staked out in the past, one he had visited recreationally. The guys there were too tony. It wasn’t for him. But Hamilton wouldn’t go somewhere close to his office anyway. He would go somewhere he wasn’t likely to run into anyone who knew his face. There was a bar in Santa Monica that might fit the bill. Perry called a taxi.

He got out a block away from the bar and propped himself up in a doorway across the street. It was a pleasant shock to his system to be cold and damp again, chill seeping through the hand-stitched soles of his oxfords. Perry folded his coat collar up, lit a cigarette, and went over what he needed to say in his head. He had a good, hopeful feeling, although he couldn’t have said about what.

Men came up the steps from the cellar door in pairs and groups, loud and happy, but never so rambunctious as to attract attention. A Christmas miracle: in a quiet moment, the door opened just once, and Hamilton Burger climbed the steps, turning quickly on the sidewalk. Nice wool peacoat, cashmere scarf, walking swiftly. Probably had a car tucked away nearby. Perry flicked away his cigarette and trotted across the street. It was nice to walk right up to a mark for once. 

He didn’t want to scare Hamilton - maybe make him flinch a little though, just once. But of course Perry didn’t get the satisfaction. When Perry fell in step beside him on the sidewalk Hamilton just raised an eyebrow and said, “This couldn’t wait until Monday morning?” 

Had he made Perry in the dark across the street? Did he just have the best poker face in Los Angeles? Perry rolled his eyes and tossed up his hands. “This isn’t about work,” he said impatiently, and realized that was true - it really wasn’t. It really was something else.

Hamilton didn’t slow down. He crossed the mouth of an alley and Perry followed. “Okay,” said Hamilton. “What?”

“You’re not going to ask how I found you?” said Perry.

“You were a detective,” said Hamilton. “It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

“Okay, look.” Perry stopped Hamilton with a hand on his arm. Hamilton cast a very reproachful gaze down but didn’t shake him off. “You’ve been giving me a hard time at work but it’s not that, I get that. It’s just - you’re so smug about it. You keep throwing a wrench into things at the last minute. You- you asked me twice if I take tea or coffee. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“I’m making you a better lawyer,” said Hamilton, standing stock still. 

“It would benefit your career if I wasn’t a better lawyer,” countered Perry. 

“That’s fair,” said Hamilton. He finally pulled his arm away. “Now let’s get out of the cold for a minute.”

He turned down an alley and almost disappeared into the shadows; Perry had to hurry to keep up. The nearest streetlight was out and the only light was the occasional changing of a traffic light. Green to yellow to red to green. Hamilton unlocked a windowless door under a fire escape with a key from his pocket. It swung open and he glanced once at Perry, who followed him in. 

They were in a narrow, well-lit hallway leading to a flight of wooden stairs. Perry took a step towards them but Hamilton just leaned on the wall, letting the door fall shut behind him. He raised his eyebrows again, waiting. In the warm light it was a lot harder to see him as just a mark.

“Lupe says you want to fuck me,” Perry said, and then groaned. He couldn’t even blame it on being drunk.

“Now, I know you’re not here because you just found out I’m gay,” said Hamilton dryly.

“Of course not,” said Perry.

“Because you knew from the first time I sat down with you to go over the Bar,” said Hamilton.

“Obviously.”

“It’s actually not so obvious, believe it or not,” said Hamilton. “Not to everyone. My coworkers all believe that I’m happily engaged. To a woman.”

“Really?” said Perry, frowning. Then he shook his head. “Well, not everyone is a private eye, I guess.”

Hamilton tilted his head a little. “You didn’t clock me because you’re a private eye. You’re queer too.”

“Well,” said Perry. 

“I could tell,” said Hamilton. “I asked Della later to be sure. But I already knew.” Hamilton pushed up off the wall and took a step forward.

God damn it, Lupe had been right.

Hamilton reached up and tipped Perry’s hat back with his thumb. Hamilton was taller than him, Perry realized; just enough that he was looking up into Hamilton’s eyes. Hamilton slid Perry’s hat all the way off and his own hat too, stacking them neatly in one hand. Then he leaned down and kissed Perry. 

It had been a long time, actually; the last time Perry had done this might have been with Lupe last year, during the Dodson baby case. Perry leaned back against the wall hard and tried to raise a hand to Hamilton’s jaw but got tangled up in all the hats instead. “Damn.”

Hamilton tossed the hats onto the wooden stairs and grabbed Perry’s tie, pulling him away from the wall and giving him a little push in the same direction.

“Are we going upstairs?” said Perry, a little breathless.

“No need,” said Hamilton. He slid an appraising finger down Perry’s shirt buttons, then skipped down to his fly. 

“No?” said Perry. He started to wrestle with his tie left-handed but bumped his elbow on the step in the process. 

“I own the flat upstairs. I’m the only one with a key to this door,” said Hamilton. A flat sounded nice, but the stairs were here right now.

Perry picked apart the knot of Hamilton’s tie just enough to get it loose, then dragged it over his head, disrupting his perfectly combed hair in the process. Hamilton, still kissing him, started working Perry’s cock, hanging half out of his underwear. 

Perry managed to get Hamilton most of the way out of his shirt, too. Hamilton was a few years older than Perry but looked way better naked - typical. Perry lost the thread a little bit when Hamilton started twisting his wrist. When Perry came he had to put his head back on the steps for a minute to catch his breath. 

When he opened his eyes again he took in Hamilton standing over him, one foot up on the first step, naked to the waist, flushed and tousled. His pants were bulging against his button fly.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” said Perry, already reaching out.

Perry didn’t miss a single thing about the Army, but he did miss giving quick blowjobs to townies while he was on leave. It was kind of therapeutic, like the bottle but with no hangover. Perry closed his eyes and got to work. Hamilton groaned and tangled a hand in Perry’s curls, pushing him closer; even better. 

Hamilton suddenly pulled out, grabbed himself roughly, and came on Perry’s shoulder. A little got on Perry’s face and he wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt. The look on Hamilton’s face was kind of flattering. He must have been imagining Perry all tousled up for a while.

“Does the flat you mentioned have a bed?” asked Perry, shifting uncomfortably to sit up. “My back is not going to thank me for this in the morning.”

“Yeah, there’s a bed,” said Hamilton, still breathless. “Come on. You’ve earned it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide! Your prompts were great. I hope you're having the best possible holiday and everything is fic and nothing hurts.
> 
> Title is from the soundtrack.


End file.
